Betrayal in the New Home
Oliver and Emily married and moved into a new flat on the outskirts of Brighton. They were overjoyed—setting up their home, making it cosy, dreaming of the future. But six months later, Oliver’s parents came to visit. At first, they seemed surprised by Emily’s presence, and over dinner, after a few drinks, an argument erupted.
“What’s this girl doing here?” his mother snapped.
“What do you mean? I’m his wife!” Emily shot back, her face flushing with anger.
“Wife?” His mother laughed, her voice dripping with scorn. “You? Don’t make me laugh! Oliver’s got a wife and two kids already. Our grandchildren! And who are you? After his flat, are you?”
Emily looked at Oliver, but he just dropped his gaze, muttering, “Go to your mum’s. I’ll sort this. I’ll send them home tomorrow.”
When Emily turned eighteen, her mother started talking about marriage. She wasn’t pushy, but she worried—Emily spent too much time at home with her books. The girl wasn’t antisocial—she’d been lively at school and university—but she turned down every boy who showed interest. She’d rather lose herself in a novel than go on dates. Her mother feared she’d end up alone.
After graduating, Emily got a job as an office manager, but life stayed the same: home, work, home. So her parents decided it was time she lived independently. They’d bought her a three-bedroom flat in an older building years ago and had been renting it out. After renovating, they handed her the keys, effectively moving her out.
Emily felt betrayed. How could they just throw her out like that? But she adapted. She hated cleaning the large flat and doing the shopping—until Oliver came along. He took over the chores, and that won her heart.
When she introduced him to her parents, her mother frowned. She’d hoped for a husband with a degree and his own place. Oliver, a car mechanic, rented a room in a nearby shared house. Her father just said, “We’ll see how it goes.”
Oliver loved Emily, and that was enough. They had a small wedding—just her parents attended. His parents, from a distant village, didn’t come, and though they planned to visit, life kept getting in the way.
A year later, they discussed children. Oliver suggested selling the old walk-up flat and buying a new one on the outskirts.
“Imagine lugging a baby and a pram up five flights of stairs,” he reasoned.
Emily agreed, though her mother objected. On the day they signed the papers, Oliver ended up in hospital with appendicitis. Emily handled the paperwork alone, bringing her mother along—still used to someone else making decisions for her.
Oliver came home from the hospital to their new flat. They decorated excitedly, hanging curtains, arranging furniture. Life felt perfect—until his parents visited.
At dinner, his mother lashed out. Stunned, Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Oliver stayed silent, just asking her to leave. She packed a bag and went to her mother’s, her heart breaking with humiliation.
The next day, she returned. His parents were gone; the flat sparkled.
“What did your mother mean yesterday?” Emily asked, fighting tears.
“Don’t worry about it. I had a woman before—we’ve got two kids. But I’m with you now,” Oliver said dismissively.
“You lied to me! That’s betrayal!” Emily shouted. “I can’t stay with a liar!”
“Can’t? Then leave! The flat stays with me. Take me to court—I’ll spend years paying you off,” he sneered.
“You’re the one leaving,” Emily said coldly. “Good thing Mum insisted the flat stays in my name. She had a hunch about you.”
Emily stayed alone in the spacious flat. Evenings were spent with books again, but they brought no comfort. Her heart ached from the betrayal. She’d loved Oliver, trusted him—and he’d hidden another family.
Her mother visited, comforting her. “Sweetheart, I told you he wasn’t right. But you’re not alone—I’m here.”
Emily nodded, but emptiness lingered. She didn’t file for divorce—let him deal with it. The flat, bought by her parents, became both her fortress and a reminder of shattered dreams. Oliver called, begging forgiveness, but she didn’t answer.
Sometimes, flipping through a novel, she imagined how life might’ve been without the lies. But reality was harsh: she was alone again, with her books and a broken heart.
